Turpentine
by rachel-greatest
Summary: A flash of dark hair and white, white skin, and Rey jumped to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder (she did have a class to get to), determined not to miss a single glimpse of him. His arms were full of art supplies, easels, tubes of paint, brushes of all shapes and sizes, and jars of linseed oil and turpentine.
1. Chapter 1

She didn't actually have any classes in this building. There was no real reason for her to be curled up on this bench in the corner, novel in hand, overstuffed bag at her feet. Students shuffling to and from classes could tell she was out of place here, but despite their bizarre looks, she kept coming back.

The clock in the middle of the room chimed for the top of the hour, a lovely, melancholy sound, and students began to make their way out of classrooms, stretching arms and flexing fingers, squinting in the harsh, artificial light of the commons.

This was the art building, and Rey had a fierce love for the atmosphere here.

As budding artists flitted through the halls, anxious to make their next classes as quickly as possible, Rey sat up straight, putting her feet down on the floor so she could see clearly through the crowd.

A flash of dark hair and white, white skin, and Rey jumped to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder (she did have a class to get to), determined not to miss a single glimpse of him. His gait was uneven, almost threatening or even volatile, as if his very soul was a too-hot ember perpetually on the edge of bursting into a cloud of sparks. Thick tendrils of black hair snaked their way around the curves of his neck, the angles of his cheeks, falling onto his forehead like faithful worshippers at the altar of his soulful eyes. From this distance, Rey was sure they were black, but she yearned to see them up close.

His arms were full of art supplies, easels, tubes of paint, brushes of all shapes and sizes, and jars of linseed oil and turpentine. A thick sweater covered his torso and most of his arms, but a thin strip of skin around his wrists showed paint smears in varying tones and shades of yellows, blues, and reds. On a truly lucky day, Rey would glimpse a corresponding smear of one of those colors on his cheek. She could imagine him, deep in thought, reaching up to push hair out of his face with a messy hand and forgetting in his concentration that he'd used it to test a color mix not seconds before.

She longed to ask him what he was working on, why his brow was furrowed in anxious concentration as he stalked down the hall some days and serene and smooth on others. He never stopped, though, and he never once looked her way in all the weeks they'd been occupying this small space together.

This must have been her lucky day, though. Today his path took him directly in front of her bench, and she panicked as she realized he was walking too quickly—he was going to catch her stretched up onto her tiptoes to see him. She tried to turn around to look busy, but in her haste, her bag hit something and she heard a low voice cry out in terrible anguish. Not a lucky day, then.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as the noise was followed by a crash. Slowly, Rey turned around, hoping against hope that she was not about to see what she was expecting.

The only thought Rey had as she looked, for the first time, into the face of the man she'd been watching all these weeks was that infuriation looked _lovely_ on him. His eyes, deep brown and not black, she noticed, smoldered with rage and his heavy features were pinched together in an expression of intense frustration. The rage on his face contrasted comically with the way he was awkwardly sprawled among all the things he'd dropped.

In front of her bench, the floor was covered in his paint supplies. A jar of turpentine, judging by the horrible smell, had broken open and was leaking onto the floor. But oh, the worst thing was the half-finished painting laying on the floor, the turpentine spilled across the middle of it.

Rey dropped to her knees to help him pick up the things spilled all over the floor. She'd barely gathered a few things before he was lashing out, snatching them from her hands.

"No! Don't touch anything. I think you've _helped_ me enough for today, don't you think?" he said, his eyebrows pulled down tight over his eyes. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment before he jerked them away, reaching down to pick more things up.

"I'm really so sorry. I didn't mean to cause any problems!" Rey began, but he held up a finger and looked straight at her.

"You…..you're not even an art student, are you? What are you doing here?!" he growled.

She blushed and looked down and away from him. "I like to read here. That's all."

He scoffed at her before turning back to his things on the ground. As he noticed the ruined painting, he let out a strangled yell.

"What? No! That's my—Oh you've got to be kidding me." he picked up the painting, studied it for a moment, and then threw it. Luckily, the hall was less crowded now that the next classes had begun, and he didn't hit anyone.

Rey, unsure of what to do, but sure that speaking wouldn't be good, simply looked at him as he seethed.

His chest heaved as he stared down the hallway, eyebrows heavy over his eyes, the blacks of the pupils blown so wide that her initial diagnosis concerning his eye color seemed accurate. Thick strands of his dark hair tangled in his fingers as he rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes for a moment. Once or twice, he turned as if to say something to her, but jerked in the middle of the movement, clenched his hands into fists, and turned away again.

After a few minutes, he seemed to collect himself well enough to continue gathering his things.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. That was my final project. The woman in that painting lives very far away. She—she can't sit for me to do another one. There's….there's no time." his shoulders slumped and the things he'd gathered in his arms fell to the floor once more.

Rey dropped her bag onto the bench she'd been sitting on, opened it, and began pulling books out of it. Once it was empty, she knelt down next to the man, who was staring blankly at the floor next to the painting, and began to gather the supplies into it. The first gentle clink of paintbrushes broke his trance, and he turned to her, confused. For a moment, he just watched her, then he froze. His eyes were panicked.

"No—you'll—the turpentine! It'll ruin your bag!" he said, reaching out to take it from her. "It's all over everything!"

Rey held the bag up away from him and calmly continued to put his things into it.

"I'm so sorry that your painting is ruined. I wish there was something I could do to help, but I don't know any painting-repair methods." Rey looked up at his face for a moment, a small moment of bravery before she averted her eyes again.

"I know I—well, overreacted is maybe an understatement—but I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"Maybe you did. A little. But it's okay."

"You don't have to give me your bag."

"I think it might help."

Once all of his things were packed up, she slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to gather her books up. There had to be a way to carry 6 lit textbooks in her arms, right?

"Wait—you can't carry all those books yourself without a bag!" he looked confused, impressed, and strangely indignant.

"I used to think you couldn't carry an entire art classroom without a bag, but here you are." Rey said, picking up the third book and stacking it on top of the other two, using her chin to stabilize the pile as she bent down again.

"My hands are free." the man said, turning his palms up towards Rey. She must have looked puzzled, because he continued, "I mean, I'm already late to my next class. I could….I could help you. Carry your books."

Rey's right eyebrow quirked up and her hands slipped, sending the book on top of the stack sliding towards the floor. Thin, white fingers snatched it out of the air before it could hit the ground.

"Oh, fine." she said, and reached down to pick up another, smaller book, as he picked the other three up. He looked at her, noting the fact that she still seemed to be struggling, and plucked a book off the top of her stack. Then he turned and walked down the hall.

"Wait! You don't even know where I'm going!" Rey called, but he stopped, bent down, and picked the ruined painting up off the ground. The set of his shoulders tightened a little as he gazed at it for a moment, but they loosened as he turned to Rey and asked:

"Where are you going?"

"Well—I, actually—home. I'm already late to my last class, and…" she said. "It's a few blocks off campus. I understand if you can't spare the time, I can just…" but he shook his head.

"Lead the way." he said.

She did, and they weaved in and around the small crowds of people, through the art building and out onto the sidewalk.

"You know, I don't even know your name." she said. "What is it?"

"Kylo Ren." he said, lifting his arms to avoid hitting a small girl with the books and painting as she dashed by.

"I'm Rey." she said. "Wait, you're Kylo Ren?" she turned back towards the art building for a moment, searching mentally. "I saw your painting!"

He frowned and looked down at her before turning in the direction she seemed to be looking.

"You know, the one with the girl and the sun in her hand?"

He cringed. "That one—I don't do fantasy or anything like that. It was an assignment."

"Well, I thought it was fantastic." she said, "She looks so delicate and soft. And the sun? So beautiful. You really have a gift."

His shoulders hunched for a moment and he looked off in the opposite direction. "You really spend a lot of time in there, don't you?"

A soft blush stained her cheeks and she ducked her head. "Yeah."

"Why is that? Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the literature building? I mean, I'm assuming you're a lit major—all these lit textbooks…"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm English with an emphasis in writing but they still make you take all the dumb literature classes." Her eyebrows pulled up together and she continued, "I'm not really…I don't think the other students in my classes like me all that much. I used to study in that building but….all the whispering was distracting. The art building is so full! So many people. So bright."

He nodded thoughtfully. He understood the allure.

"And all of you are creators, in a very real, socially accepted sense. Everybody tells me it's stupid to major in writing because only a few writers ever actually make it in the business." She sighed. "I've never seen anyone bother anyone else in the art building. It's a comforting place to read…." she hesitated, blushing again, "and to watch people." she said.

"Watch….people?" Kylo asked, frowning. "Were you…..watching….me?" he looked over at her, the beginnings of a smirk on his face.

No longer a delicate pink, Rey's blush spread all the way across her face and down her neck. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't. Embarrassment flooded through her.

"It's okay if you were. I've been told I'm quite…comforting….to look at." Kylo bumped her shoulder with his, and she looked up at him, trying to hide as much of her red face as possible behind the books in her arms. The scoundrel was smirking wide now, and the expression suited him so well that it brought on a resurgence of her blush.

The two sidestepped around some girls standing in the middle of the sidewalk, talking loudly about some class they had together. Rey still couldn't look at Kylo, and her face still felt too warm.

The rest of the short walk was made in relative silence, with the exception of murmurs as Kylo guided her around groups of people.

Rey abruptly stopped in front of her building, and Kylo's arm brushed hers as he struggled to stop before he knocked all of the books out of her hands. The rough fabric of his sweater and the proximity of his skin burned her arm.

"This—This is me." she said, clearing her throat.

"You probably need help carrying your stuff up, right?" Kylo said. Rey nodded, rushing forward to open the door to the building. The rubber soles of his sneakers squeaked on the tiled floor as he walked towards the elevator, but Rey hissed quietly and jerked her head towards the ominous-looking door on the other side of the lobby.

Kylo frowned, clearly confused, but she shook her head and motioned for him to follow her. The heavy door groaned as she pushed it open, first with the flat of her hand, and then with her hips.

Around her, she watched him study the flights and flights of unforgiving concrete steps, narrow and steep. He slid past her through the doorway, holding the books up over her head to make room for both of their bodies in the small space. Her hip brushed the top of his warm thigh, and she closed her eyes, swallowing tightly before moving away and allowing the door to slide shut.

Kylo hesitated before walking up the stairs ahead of her, and they marched up three flights before Rey pulled reached in front of him to open another ominous-looking door and stepped into a hallway, lit by windows at either end and dim, yellow lights in between. Her door was the first one.

She fumbled with her keys for a moment before turning to him and raising one eyebrow.

"So….would you like to come in?" she said.


	2. Chapter 2

Kylo had to lean down to step through her small doorframe. He put a hand on it, swinging himself through and looking around the room with a curious eye. It seemed larger than it probably was because of the windows, open and wide, the warm yellow fabric of the curtains pulled back and tied with a piece of what looked like twine.

A small, floral patterned couch sat under one of the windows, threadbare but sturdy. Near it, a small coffee table, the blue paint faded, groaned under the weight of a stack of textbooks, some literature, some suspiciously science-y. Kylo guessed she must have a roommate.

The room opened into a kitchen, with cheerful tiling and a modest dining table. A small bunch of wildflowers sat on the counter next to the sink, which was empty save for a bowl and a spoon. The cabinets were a terribly drab shade of brown compared to the random splashes of color in the room; a pink towel draped over the arm of the oven door, a postcard with a picture of the ocean on the fridge, a yellow bowl in the middle of the table filled with fruit.

Rey walked in ahead of him, kicking her shoes off by the coffee table and using her toes to nudge the socks off as well. Her bare feet made soft slapping noises as she walked across the tile, headed towards the kitchen table. Kylo watched her, smiling. She lifted up onto her toes and reached over a chair to set her books down. The edge of her shirt climbed up towards the waistband of her pants, almost uncovering a sliver of skin, but in the end leaving her still modest.

She let her feet drop flat against the floor, and Kylo hastily averted his eyes to the fruit bowl.

"Are you…hungry?" Rey asked, lingering by fruit on the table once she noticed him looking at it. She picked up an orange, eyes steady on him despite the lovely pink blush staining her cheeks. He couldn't help thinking that Rey would make an excellent subject for a painting. Her features were delicate and firm, almost…orderly, the arch of her eyebrows pointing towards the straight slope of her small nose, which fit neatly into the soft curve of her mouth while the corners of her lips reached up to her cheekbones. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, brown and warm. His fingers itched to pull out his pencil and sketchbook, to document this symmetry.

He was staring at her, he realized, and he cleared his throat, looking down at the books in his hands and walking towards her. Her face seemed curious, still pink.

"I'm…I'm okay." he said, carefully piling the books in his hands next to the ones she'd placed on the table. He took a long look at the ruined painting before resting it carefully next to them. He readjusted the bag over his shoulder and then placed it on one of the chairs.

"Are you sure? It's just an orange. I can share." Her eyes were mirthful.

He looked at her a long moment, thinking, and then finally reached for the orange. Their fingers brushed and he tried to ignore the burning that the small contact caused at the back of his neck. He peeled the orange carefully, keeping it in one piece.

"Thank you." he said, his voice quiet. Rey smiled and leaned her hips back against the chair.

The soft snick of a door opening made them both turn their heads.

"Hey Phasma!" Rey said, pushing off of the chair and waltzing towards her. Kylo watched Rey, her every movement a practice in unrefined strength and while still managing to be gentle and non-threatening.

Phasma smiled gently and gestured towards Kylo. "Who is this?" she said.

Kylo shifted, folding his hands in front of him, hunching his shoulders. "I'm Kylo Ren." he said.

"He walked me home after I ruined his painting and spilled all of his stuff." Rey said.

Phasma laughed, throwing her head back, the blonde silk of her short hair tossing across her forehead.

"Were you in the art building again?" Phasma said, giving Rey a stern look. "Were you looking for—"

Rey made a high-pitched shrieking noise, cutting Phasma off before she could finish. Phasma only looked confused for a moment, and then her eyes flew back to Kylo. He felt uncomfortable as Phasma stared at him, and then her eyes widened.

"He's—oh, Rey." Phasma said.

"Hey didn't you have, like, anything else to be doing right now?" Rey said, her face bright pink and she wouldn't look at Kylo.

He knew then, that she'd been studying in the art building for the atmosphere, but also somehow for him. He was equal parts flattered and perplexed.

"I'll just get my lunch and go back into my room. You two have fun!" Phasma said, giving Rey a not-so-subtle wink on her way back to her room from the fridge.

There was an awkward moment of silence in which Kylo was unsure about whether or not to make eye contact with Rey. She stood next to the table, a chair between them, and reached out a finger to trace the edge of the ruined canvas.

"What will you do?" she said. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. Her voice was quiet.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's ruined. You don't have time to redo it. It's your final project."

"It's only half finished. I'm sure I'll figure something else out."

"Who is she?" Rey asked, and Kylo watched her look down at the rough outline of the woman's face.

"She's my mother." he said. His eyes closed and he sighed, heavy and sad.

"Oh no!" Rey said, and she buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry, Kylo." she said.

"I'd say it wasn't your fault," Kylo said, and Rey looked up, her face pinched with surprise, or maybe embarrassment, "but it really was. How long have you been watching me?"

"I—I wasn't watching you!"

He raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. Rey didn't speak either, and they stared at each other, Rey's cheeks flushed.

"Fine! I've been watching you for a few weeks. I started studying in the art building because I wanted to get away from all the…lit majors."

"But aren't you a lit major?" he said.

"Yeah. But I want to write. Apparently that's a silly thing to aspire to in a place where we all study authors and the best of the best literature out there." Rey sighed.

Kylo nodded. "So. Why did you start watching me?"

"Have you ever thought about maybe bringing a bag for all of your," she waved her hand in his direction, "art crap? Because a big, tall guy carrying _all_ of his stuff in his arms is actually pretty eye-catching."

"So now it's _my_ fault that you knocked all of my stuff out of my arms?" Kylo said, the smirk on his face somehow managing to make him look boyish and impish at the same time.

"No! No, that's not what I meant." Rey said, closing her eyes and rubbing her nose with the pads of her fingers. "I'm so sorry for that."

"It's…well, I'm not going to say it's not a big deal, because—it is. But I'll figure something out." Kylo closed his eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd had to redo a project; his temper had been the downfall of many nearly-finished works.

"Can't you just reuse your reference photos or sketches or whatever?" she said.

Kylo laughed, a short, harsh sound. "Well, actually. I did most of the ground work in person, so I didn't take a reference photo. I prefer not to, if I can manage it. Having the figure in front of me is better."

"So….you can't redo it." Rey said.

"Um. Not really." Kylo said, looking down at the painting, tracing the spots where her fingers had been. A thought burned in his mind, and he was suddenly overcome by burning nervousness. "But I'm surrounded by art students who need favors and models. I'm sure one of them could be persuaded to give me a hand. Unless…."

"Unless what? Will you have time?" she said.

"If I hurry."

Rey nodded. He thought for a moment, feeling shy and unsure.

"Unless….you'd be willing to help me." He refused to look at her, instead retracing the edges of the painting.

"Help you…..how?" she said.

"You could….sit for me. If you have the time, of course." Kylo chanced a glance up at her. She was pink again.

"Of course!" she said. "If that's what you need, of course I'll help you. I'm the one who got you into this mess."

"To be fair, I probably should invest in a bag." Kylo said, grinning at her. His shoulders relaxed and he let his fingers trail off the edge of the painting.

"While I agree with that statement, I still feel I should help you. And offer you the use of my bag until you can find a replacement." she gestured towards her bag, full of his supplies.

"Honestly, I should just find you a new bag—this one has all that turpentine spilled all over it, so it'll smell awful probably forever. But I will graciously accept your help. Although I should get started as soon as possible." Kylo said. "Like, in the next couple of days."

Rey bit her lip, looking at the pile of her books on the table. "I hate to ask—but can we work something out so that I can read while you're painting? I have all of my midterms in the next couple of weeks."

"Uh—yeah. I'm sure I can figure something out for you. Let me think about some poses and settings and….I can get back to you about it."

Rey nodded and walked over to the counter next to the fridge, pulling a small pad and pen out of the top drawer and scribbling on it as she walked back to him.

"I'd bet you don't believe in cell phones, since you obviously don't believe in simplifying your life at all," she looked up at him, a sweet smile on her face, "so here's my cell phone number."

She ripped the paper away from the pad and held it out to him. He studied it and reached out for it, letting his long fingers fold around hers as grasped it, relishing in the way her eyes widened just a little bit. Once he'd taken it, he folded it up, crisp and sharp, and put it in his back pocket next to his cell phone.

He wished he could sit here among her bright colors and cheery smiles forever. There was a spot right next to the window that would probably have just the perfect light for sketching, and he wondered if the door beyond it led to her bedroom. Above the chair in the corner near her door, a clock ticked away, and Kylo cursed himself for staying so much longer than he'd planned.

"I should probably get back to class." he said.

A small frown flitted across her face before she nodded and smiled. "Of course! I've made you so late for class. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Kylo said, running his fingers over the strap of the bag before slinging it over his shoulder and picking up his painting. A pang of sadness hit him as he looked at the ruined surface.

At least he'd been able to gain a new friend.

Kylo wasn't overly fond of people and usually preferred to be alone. It was easier that way—he often painted all day and into the odd hours of the night, forgot to eat, couldn't sleep, and made a ridiculous mess of his room throwing things around looking for a certain paintbrush or a rag. His mood sometimes required a specific type (and volume) of music, and his roommate had, a while ago, left a package on his bed, a pair of old-school noise-blocking headphones. Now when he painted he did so with his hair trapped back behind them, music blaring as loud as he liked directly into his ears.

Kylo knew he was the stereotypical moody artist, and for that reason he usually shied away from getting close to others.

But Rey, with her golden-green eyes and the soft glow of her smile…he found himself intrigued.

He walked across the room, wrapping a hand around her doorknob and turning to smile at her again.

"I'll call you later? Probably tonight. I've got to talk to my professor before I decide anything."

Rey nodded. "I'll be here."

He opened the door, reaching up a hand again to keep his head from knocking into the door frame and turned to take one more look at her, her slouchy jeans, faded t-shirt, and bare feet making her the picture of everything welcoming and lovely he'd ever known.

He nodded at her and left, closing the door behind him. The click of the latch was deafening in the dim, quiet hallway.


End file.
